


あなたの名前は-

by ArchaicNightfall



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Fallenswap (Archaic's Swapfell AU), Alternate Universe - Horrortale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Becoming someone else, Existential Horror, Gen, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route - "I want to stay with you.", Reader Is Not Chara (Undertale), Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Reader is technically not Fell Sans, Roundabout redemption arc, Trying to become sober, blurring the lines, but is also a Sans, tags will update as the fic progresses, the void is sentient
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:29:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22217071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchaicNightfall/pseuds/ArchaicNightfall
Summary: (Anata no namae wa/Your name is-)In which a human wakes up in the body of a skeleton from a video game. The biggest problem is that this guy's from an alternate universe. Oh, and he's a total asshole, judging by the texts he's still getting and the fact that the room is trashed from the guy's repeated anger. Lovely.~~What's in a name? What happens when the line between you and me blurs until we can no longer tell ourselves apart?~~Male!Reader, but he has a nickname and the bare minimum of a past. Written in the third person.
Comments: 18
Kudos: 106





	1. Replacer

**Author's Note:**

> Something a little different than the Sleepwalker Series. 
> 
> This is also the pilot chapter for this fic. Be warned, it's pretty experimental. So I hope that you're willing to put up with me, because even _I_ don't know where this one is going to go.
> 
> Nicknames: (Getting it over and done with early).  
> Reader: Bet, (???).  
> Classic: Common (Sans), Venture (Papyrus).  
> Fell: Rouge (Sans), Baton (Papyrus).  
> Swap: Agate (Sans), Agave (Papyrus).  
> Fallenswap: Tycho (Sans), Timber (Papyrus).  
> Horror: Albin (Sans), Bunny (Papyrus)

**あなたの名前は-**

**Replacer**

* * *

> **\- Guide -**
> 
> _Italics indicate thoughts or telepathy._

* * *

If anyone told Bet that he'd one day wake up in the body of a skeleton, he probably would have laughed you out of the room. 

However, at this point in time, Bet isn't laughing, nor is he finding it funny in the slightest, because- ah- well. One: he's a goddamn skeleton. Two: he's in the body of a skeleton from a fricken videogame. 

_Hwat the fuck-_

If Bet had any less self-restraint, you could probably hear the guy losing his mind from total miles away. Alas, he does have a decent modicum of self-control, so he grabbed the pillow off the- _absolutely disgusting mattress, and ewww why's the cushion **crunchy** \- _ bed, and promptly muffles a very high-pitched scream that the OG skeleton would probably find really embarrassing. Like usually the guy's voice is so deep, you could crush rocks with the pressure. Despite that, no man, _(monster, or human)_ should be able to reach that pitch.

So now he's standing in the guy's bathroom, staring blankly at the monster in the mirror. 

_(Okay, looks like he needs to add more numbers to the previous list. Three: He's not even in the body of the original video game skeleton character. Four: He's a goddamn offshoot.)_

Getting to the actual restroom was such a pain, the monster's height was, admittedly something that took some time to get used to. Bet, back wherever home was at this point in time, was a good foot and a half shorter than this guy is. Like, it had been a while since he measured himself, but he was like, 6'0, which was perfectly average for a guy in his early 20s. 

This dude's on a whole' nother level, and that's pretty literal, considering that he's around a decent 7 foot something inches tall, not quite 8 feet, but close. So Bet had one bitch of a crash-course to get used to dealing with his newly acquired height and felt a little bit like a baby deer. He has all but wobbled his way through the room, bare-boned feet kicking up objects that he couldn't see. He nearly tripped, and the only thing that saved him was snapping his arms out and catching clawed hands against the bathroom door's threshold.

The bathroom doesn't have a full-length mirror, but to be fair, Bet's bathroom didn't either. In the dark of the bathroom, bright red eye-lights stare back. Exhaling quietly, he flips the lights on and hisses, catching the sight of those bright red ovals turning to slits at the sudden assault of brightness. Luckily, the skeleton's wearing some clothes. Dark charcoal gray sweatpants, and a stained red _Metallica_ band t-shirt.  
  
  
Bet reaches up with wickedly sharp phalanges _(At least that's what he thinks that's what those are called. Honestly, he should look that up later. It'd be kind of dumb to be a skeleton monster and_ not _know what you're composed of. If this is actually a thing and not some weird drunk-high-completely-blitzed dream)_ and idly pats them against his face. They tap against his cheekbones, making bizarre clicking sounds that is just totally off for a person that has skin. 

Used to have skin? He surely hopes that this isn't permanent or he'll have no idea how to cope in the future. 

Anyway, he can actually feel the tips of his own claws against his cheekbones. If he presses the flat of his fingertips a little harder into them, he can see and sense his cheek squishing in a manner eerily similar to human skin. Needless to say, it's weird for solid bone to squish and bend like that. 

He rested his hands on the bathroom countertop and pulls his seemingly perpetual frown into a smile. He doesn't quite grimace afterward, but it's pretty damn close. Now, Bet wouldn't say that the guy's smile is like, nasty or anything, but the OG dude's smile is a bit leery in a way that he can't quite pinpoint. The guy's teeth aren't so bad either, sure one of his lower incisor teeth on the left side jaw is replaced with a gold one, and everything else is shark-like in their shape. They're all in reasonably good condition, nothing's cracked or damaged severely, and sure, the enamel is worn in some places, but it's all… _reasonable_ for how animalistic the set is.

  
Needless to say, you won't be seeing Bet smiling that often. Besides, if this whole event turns out to be a long-running thing- _god, he sure hopes that this isn't permanent_ -it'd be kinda weird to see Bet genuinely smiling in this dude's body. Like, that would be such a massive break in character.

Exhaling a little, the human-in-the-skeleton's body takes a bit longer to scrutinize 'himself.' Fell, it's better than calling him 'skeleton' or _'that guy'_ or _'the dude who's body i'm puppeting like a creepy motherfucker'_ is a bit overweight. Also big-boned in the most _literal_ sense. The bones of his arms and legs are thicker than human ones, which could be considered very delicate compared to this set. He doesn't know many of the names of said bones, so he can't really give them all names to compare them to. But if Bet had to guess, he'd assume that they're two to three times as thick around. 

Anyway, back to the sort of weight issue that he's got going on. Bet looks a little apprehensive as he does a slow turn in the mirror until he's looking a little over his shoulder. He also can't really see himself running for very long, and going up the stairs would probably wind him. Any physical activity would absolutely be a nightmare. The best way to describe himself is uh... _thicc._

He's got a bit of a defined beer belly, and his thighs have a decent amount of thickness to them. The expression on his face is rather pensive as he pats his stomach with his large hands. It's squishy with an off jello-like texture to it. Squishy, soft, and weirdly firm in a nutshell. Which is- _frankly_ -so fucking weird for a skeleton. He'd lift up his shirt to see what it looked like, but he's too nervous about doing that sort of thing at this second. 

All he can really say is "maaaaaaagic," coupled with really lame jazz hands. Is he too tired to think of a valid explanation for all of this? Yes. Hell fucking yes. He's in a fictional dude's body for fuck's sake. There are zero levels of valid explanations that he could give this.

Facing the mirror straight on, Bet shifts a little uncomfortably, taking in the really bright red eye-lights that Fell has. He recalled all the fanart of the guy typically having smaller pupils, and kind of slit. Only, these ones were a bit bigger, and solid round ovals as opposed to hollowed cat-like ones. He's- honestly- not sure what they initially looked like, but he hopes that the change isn't too noticeable.

Considering that Bet has only been awake for like, what, a good 30 minutes. 15 of that was him staring at the ceiling. Five more being him having a mini freak out into Fell's pillow, and now trying to see who the hell he was in the mirror. 

Admittedly, the thoughts now filling his skull is enough to make dread crawl down his spine. The red eye-lights affixed in his sockets reacting to change of the tenant's emotions, shrinking slightly and thinning into a slit. On a habit that's not Bet's own, he reached up to scratch at the back of his neck, wincing slightly at the unfamiliar feel of the clawed fingertips catching on the bones.

If Bet's here in this guy's body, where'd the original guy go? Is he still around? Is he not? Is he holding him captive in his own skull, and he is forced to watch from the sidelines? Is he even conscious at all? Did Bet kill him the moment that the human woke up in his body? Will they ever go back to normal? Is Fell fucking up his own life if the guy ended up in _his_ body?

_(Was he never a human in the first place and is now 'awake' and in the 'real world'?)_

That is- a lot of questions that he really doesn't want to think about. Bet ignores how the scratching gets a little worse, claws digging into this weird jelly-like substance that's between the joints of the vertebrae and sending brief jolts of pain through his system. He tries not to focus on how his eye-lights are starting to get oddly wobbly. Oh, right, isn't Fell usually characterized by being strangely anxious most of the time? Bet takes a moment to shut his eye-sockets because he had a lot of anxiety problems when he was younger. _(He still has them, actually)._ Overthinking was a big part of the downward spiral into an anxiety attack. 

Inhale for six seconds, exhale for eight, repeat. 

It takes him a good six repeats until he gets himself to stop freaking out. Luckily enough, even though the neck scratching was starting to hurt, he's not bleeding. 

Though, it's hard to tell if he's actually bleeding. Mostly because Bet's never injured this body before. He hopes that he doesn't have to witness that sort of thing. Still, seeing how the former human's luck has ended himself in the body of a _goddamn skeleton,_ it's highly likely.

Breathing out a little shakily, he takes a moment to center himself. Bet steps carefully away from the counter, turning off the lights and exiting the bathroom. Bet is mindful of not tripping over the sheer amount of litter and clothes on the sans' floor. 

He ignores both the shattered glass, the weirdly tossed around women's underwear, and bras on the carpet. The only reason why he can even see all of this shit despite everything being relatively pitch black. Every single exposed joint of the monster literally glows in the dark. It's not extremely bright by any means. But, it's enough that when his eye-lights quickly adjust to the night-time blackness. Everything around him is faintly illuminated in a dull haze of crimson. 

He does hesitate at the foot of the bed. Honestly, Bet's not the cleanest person. Back at home, he does have clothes on his floor in haphazard piles and trash that sometimes misses the bin, and maybe he does need to vacuum up the carpet at some point. But his room is like paradise compared to the mess that Fell has done to his own bedroom. 

The mattress is all but stripped bare, leaving only a thin _greasy_ cover that's put around the entire thing. All of the sheets that you'd sleep with are... Bunched off to the side and on the floor, and left is a greasy pile beside the battered side table. There was a lamp at one point on said table, but all that's left of it is the bottom. Apparently, in what Bet assumed was a fit of rage. Fell had ripped the lamp out of the electrical socket, smashing part of it against the wall, and ended putting the somewhat intact bottom half back onto the tabletop. The rest of said lamp is all shattered, the lampshade crumpled, the lightbulb in pieces, and a lot of ceramic shards.

Like, jeeze dude, that must have been one hell of an angry outburst to fuck up something as kind of pricy depending on the manufacturer of said furniture. 

There's also a decent amount of damage to the walls too, some are kind of dents like he- _oh gross did he pin people against the wall or something- nnnnope, don't think about that-_ hit it with something blunt. Other sections have moderately sized holes, evident that Fell Sans has probably punched his hand through the plaster at some point. That, or he used yet another object like the lamp to do more damage.

So, anxiety problems, hygiene problems considering the state of the room _(himself included- probably_ ), and horrible anger issues. What a mess. If anything, this only makes Bet's internal anxiety worse because he has to pretend to be this guy? Bet's friends and family have always called him mellow, if not a bit protective over the mentioned friends and family. So the concept of the human going from no anger, all the way to _much_ rage is really foreign.

Aloof asshole, he can play really well. But an anxious wreck with an even more hair-trigger temper? That's going to be way harder. 

Bet sighs a little, nasal ridge scrunching up slightly as he sits down cross-legged on the bed. Ignoring the scratchy sensation of crumbs against the thick bones of his lower legs and under his feet. Huffing a breath of hot air out of his mouth- _something that's also explainable through the bullshit that is magic._ He quickly uses his large hands to do his best to wipe off a majority of crumbs and burger wrappers to the floor. He sits there cross-legged for a moment of silence, index, and middle finger of his right hand tapping against the thin and greasy sheet with an expression of mild distaste. 

He's honestly not all that sure if he can go to sleep. Bet's used to a few sheets and a decent amount of soft stuff like the comforters on his bed back home, the fact that everything's just so gross in this room is really hindering his ability to do so. This is coming from the fact that he can barely see shit. The idea of seeing all the mess in natural lighting is absolutely horrifying.

Yeahhhhhh, nope, he's not sleeping on this mess. But the problem is- Bet isn't brave enough to leave the room either. Luckily, the universe provides him with a distraction. The loud pinging of phone notifications. Said device is face down beside the broken lamp piece. Honestly, he hadn't even _seen_ it at first considering how the damn thing is black, blending in with the surroundings. Red isn't the best light to see things in the dark with, after all.

He's not sure if this is a breach of privacy, but considering that Fell is... _absent,_ and his phone is now technically Bet's since the human's inhabiting this body, he's not quite sure. He reaches over and picks it up, noticing that it's apparently made in mind for monsters, considering how the phone isn't dwarfed by Bet's hand. It's almost tablet-sized, as opposed to the typical _iPhone_ or _Galaxy._ It's a little bit of a relief because he's not sure that he would ever be able to take himself seriously with such a tiny device.

Once again, it's muscle memory that kicks in. Luckily, this one isn't borderline harmful, like the scratching. Instead, it actually saves Bet from trying to reset the phone's password. The moment the keyboard pops up to enter the password, he automatically types a string of numbers and one letter. He snorts a little bit because the password is hexadecimal for the word' fuck.' Honestly, considering Fell's humor, it's spot on. It also matched Bet's mood to a T, so that was interesting in itself.

However, Bet does wince at the slew of text messages that he's been getting. He scrolls idly through the list of people, and good grief that's a lot of unread texts. Some of them have over one hundred notifications, others have them nearing an absurd level, like 300~400. It's honestly quite horrifying.

Most of the ones with high texts amount are, obviously, not the people that Fell likes to talk to. They're also named quite crudely too: That one bitch from Mauve's, Corner Store Whore, Dumb Blonde, Bitchy Rabbit, etc. It says a lot about the skeleton's winning personality. The ones with the least messages are at least somewhat nicer, Little Blue, Irritating Carrot, Vanilla. Sure, they're a bit blunt but overall much more pleasant. He's pretty sure that all of the not as crude names are the other skeletons. 

So this means that he is in a timeline with alternate versions of the main dude. Wonderful. Fantastic. Truly beautiful. As if this wasn't already convoluted as it was, now he's dealing with more people that are similar-but-not to Fell? Good grief. It's almost enough to make the poor former human want to start scratching at the back of his neck again. 

Sighing softly, he continues to scroll through the contacts, he doesn't have as many people there as he initially assumed. In fact, the people with the nasty names mentioned above are the minority. He's pretty sure that some of these are the Toriel and Asgores, which makes some sense because Fell is also a Judge so-

-Oh shit, he's a Judge. The others are going to notice that Bet's the wrong person so quickly. If anything, the reminder's enough to make him break out into a sweat, he can feel the bones of his body heating up in response and notices the sensation of sweat building up on his browbone. He continues to scroll through the messages, eye-lights flicking back and forth as he reads everything to the best of his ability.

Honestly, reading through it all is... kind of depressing. What a person does and how they act tells a lot about someone. Bet learns quite a bit about the dude who's body he's now in from the hour and half of scrolling through person after person. He's even more uncomfortable with all the texts than the messy state of the room. Turn's out, the dude's nickname is Rouge. Still another variant of Red, but not as lazy as one could have gone. 

Rouge has a bit of a tendency to go in circles. There's a cycle that he goes through that honestly doesn't paint a pretty picture. He's rude, crude, and _very_ creepy at times. It's also apparent that the guy's a bit of an alcoholic, which leads to a downward spiral of debauchery. Wincing a little, Bet looks at the ones with the worst texts, sends a very brief apology for his actions if a person had been treated especially badly, and if they don't deserve one, either way, they get blocked. 

By the end of it all, Bet has a whole slew of numbers blocked. He scratches at the back of his neck anxiously as he finally goes through the more important ones. He all but slumps in relief at the realization that he has the whole house to himself. Apparently, everyone else in the current household had gone out camping, leaving the house empty aside from Rouge. 

More search through the texts showed that the Swap Sans, Agate had suggested the camping trip. Venture, the OG Papyrus, was the second person to agree with the whole thing, saying that it would be nice to get out of the house for a bit. The chill elder brothers, Agave and Common, merely went with the flow, both of them too lazy to even bother with protesting their younger, more energetic siblings. 

Not to be upstaged, the more aggressive people of the household had decided to upstage their 'fluffier counterparts' and suggested their version of the camping trip. 

Both sets, which consisted of the Rouge's brother and the Fallenswap brothers, shared the same sort of goal, which was rock climbing.

Rouge had complained in a manner that almost reminded Bet of a very bratty middle schooler. Full-on bitching and whining to the point that Rouge's easily irritable and infuriated brother, Baton, got too fed up with his older brother's BS that he quickly gave in. Of course, the 'giving in' part was full of almost-death threats. Rouge was also used to this and sent back a volley of equally violent texts. Bet scratched the back of his skull with sharp claws, feeling sweat beading on his temple. Bet had a close relationship with his siblings, but this banter was on another level.

Timber, on the other hand, was way too used to Tycho's antics, and also went along with it with no complaints, much like Agave and Common. Bet was about as active as the next guy, sometimes he went for morning walks and did kickboxing at the gym. Rock climbing, in comparison, was _so_ much worse. As a person with the bare minimum when it comes to upper body strength, it would suck so bad. And this was rock climbing in _nature_. Bet wasn't a fan of heights, and Rouge wasn't so keen on it either. 

Pulling down the phone's menu, Bet checked the date and then glanced back at the old conversation. It was the start of the weekend, and the rest of the household had left on Thursday, which was two days ago. The current day was- a nasty volley of curses escaped his teeth. November 3rd, 231X. Good fucking god, that was about- what? 200 something years in the future? Goddamn. He had two days to himself. 2 days to adapt to this new hell-dimension and figure out to blend in. Fantastic. 

Bet, or maybe he should go by Rouge now? It'd be better to get himself familiar with people calling him by the Sans' name. It made something unpleasant swirl in his gut, and he couldn't help but wonder if this is how the other 'duplicate' skeletons felt. Forced to take on a new name, while forgoing your own in the process. Sure, it helped ease up the confusion a bit, but names are important. 

Sure, Bet wasn't the most like, best name for a child. But his family was strangely known for beating the craziest of odds at times. After all, he's in the body of a video game character, the chances of this sort of thing are astronomical. 

One hell of a _bet_.

He laughs a little as he puts his face into his hands. The rough sound borderlining on hysterical.


	2. A Small Crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bet panics, before exploring the house and comes to a few new (depressing and utterly horrifying realizations) of the skeleton whose body he now inhabits.
> 
> (Note, this fic will tackle darker topics such as depression, substance abuse, and alcoholism. This is a work of fiction and any portrayal may not be entirely accurate.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing has not been cooperating or been kind with me lately. It's probably from all of the stress. All of my face-to-face college classes have swapped to online ones, so it's been giving my headspace a few hits with a sledgehammer.
> 
> Nicknames: (Still getting it over and done with early).  
> Reader: Bet, (???).  
> Classic: Common (Sans), Venture (Papyrus).  
> Fell: Rouge (Sans), Baton (Papyrus).  
> Swap: Agate (Sans), Agave (Papyrus).  
> Fallenswap: Tycho (Sans), Timber (Papyrus).  
> Horror: Albin (Sans), Bunny (Papyrus)

**あなたの名前は- (Anata no Namae Wa-) 2**

A Small Crisis.

* * *

**Guide**

_Italics are an indication of thoughts or memories._

* * *

It takes maybe another 30 minutes for Bet to stop panicking enough to get his thoughts into order. His hands are shaking, sweat drips down his temple, and he finds that there's an invasive sense of numbness overtaking his body.

_But it's not his body. Not really, and that's because it belongs to someone else. Someone who is so different in mannerisms and actions, and how he probably walks and carries himself. And- oh god- he's_ replaced _someone. And now he has to live like them in hopes that he will one day awake back home._

_They're gonna find him out in no time. And what will happen when they do? Bet cannot recall how he ended up in Rouge's body in the first place. Will they hate him? Will they try and perform experiments in an attempt to bring Rouge back and results in Bet's death? Will they just not care-_

_-Stop, breath, focus._

Bet's claws poke into the fabric of the dirty sheets. He counts back from sixty, breathing in and out slowly. He just- he has to- he needs to take a bit, ground himself. He shuts his eyes and rests his forehead against his knuckles and shuts his eye-sockets. 

What can he hear? 

"I can hear the early morning birdsong and the occasional sound of a car passing by the house, but other than that, it's calm." Bet says, deep baritone slightly shaky, it's strange to hear the other's voice coming out of his mouth and reverberating in his head. There's the slightest bit of an accent to his voice, one that he can't quite place.

What can he feel? 

"I.., ugh, I can feel the crumbs against my bones. The sheets feel strangely greasy, and the room is slightly cold from the lack of heat."

What can he smell? 

"The room smells faintly musty," Though it's dulled in a way that tells Bet that his nasal cavity is used to it. "I don't want to know what it smells like from an outside point of view."

What can he see?

He takes a fortifying breath, red eye-lights scanning the surroundings. Light has started to stream through the closed blinds of the nearby window, leaving thin yellow streaks that cut through the oppressive darkness of Rouge's room.

The illumination is enough to reveal the rest of the mess that the skeleton had made of the room. The fact that Rouge's bedroom had carpet was a travesty, and it made Bet wonder who in their right mind would even want to sleep or have a romp in the sheets here. There are dark stains, stuff that looks sort of like grease, and also muddy shoe prints that have tracked mud and ground it into the threads. Bet's aware enough that Rouge can teleport, so it's apparent that he was shortcutting straight to the room from the outside without doing any wiping off the bottom of his shoes.

It's the epitome of laziness, and Bet's mind cannot comprehend how slothful and disgusting this all is.

It's so dirty all over that he can't even tell what color the carpet initially was. And Rouge's nose must be used to the smell of the place because it must be godawful to anyone who even passes by the door. He honestly wonders if one of those industrial deep cleaning vacuums could be strong enough to make a dent in all of the packed in grime.If Bet still had skin, he has no doubt that it'd feel like it was crawling. The back of his cervical vertebrae pricks a little in discomfort, and it takes all of his willpower not to start scratching. Though, he caves and instead settles for rubbing the scarred expanse of bone with the flats of his fingers. It's strange when his body instinctively relaxes at the sensation. Bet wonders how many times Rouge scratched himself bloody in his own anxiety in an attempt to calm himself. 

"I can see that the room is.... very messy." Bet finishes lamely, glancing around the steadily brightening room with slightly disbelieving eye-lights. 

He feels a little better, enough for the invasive numbness to retreat sufficient for him to finally muster up the willpower to move. He grimaces a bit as old crumbs somehow manage to crumble up even further under the palms of his hands, grating against his bones. 

He's almost surprised that upon getting up, his joints don't crack. He slowly rotates his shoulders, feeling nothing. He does the same with the others, twisting both wrists side to side, moving his head around. The only time he gets a faint crackling pop noise is from his right ankle, and he watches as the red magic between the talus and the leg bones fizzle and spark. It doesn't hurt, but at the same time doesn't feel right either. Bet squints his eye-sockets, bending down for a closer look. Or- well- tries to but can't get very far because his stomach's in the way. He awkwardly fumbles around his mass, rolling down the hem until it's past his boney heel. In the slightly brighter darkness of the bedroom, illuminated by the endings of dusk, he spots a faint set of spiderwebbed cracks. They're old scars, colored a faintly washed out red. Anywho, he can't really tell what caused the injury, but on the bright side, he doesn't have to worry about it.

He rolls his sock back up and finally goes back to what he was trying to do earlier. He has two days to learn as much as he can about Rouge, and maybe get some house cleaning done, all before the others get back. It's stressful, but Bet's formerly made messes and other stuff in college that was way worse, and cleaning that was a nightmare. This is nothing less than a cakewalk. 

When you live on your own in the college dorms for a few years, a person can learn quite a bit about how to keep themselves going and adapting.

So that's what he'll do, adapt like how he has always done. He picks his way through the dirty room, stopping at the doorway and taking one last look before nervously stepping into the hall. It looks like he's on the second floor of the house. He looks left, taking note of all the doors on each side of the hall. Each entry is color-coded, with Rouge's door in primarily red with black accents. Rouge's brother is the opposite of his, he notes, with mostly black and red, with accents of gold. Now that he thinks about it, the lazier people are on one side of the hallway, while the more energetic ones are on the other. Baton and Rouge's rooms are the ones closest to the stairs. 

He exhales slowly, running his claws lightly against the back of his skull. The gesture calms himself down almost as good as the clawing at the end of his neck. There's a nagging sensation eating at him. He looks at the other set of doors next to 'his' and his 'brothers.' They're color-coordinated to Tycho and Timber. Tycho's entry is a wine-red with a hint of purple. Maybe that's burgundy? Timber's entrance is a washed-out purple, with a corkboard screwed into it. From what Bet can see, it's covered by a bunch of various notes. 

Next to their doors are the swaps. Agate's entry is a bright and cheery blue, with those little glow-in-the-dark stars pasted all over. Agave's door is burnt orange, and it looks like it could use a few coats of paint, almost as if it was half-assed. Though, from what Bet could remember, Swap Papyruses tended to be _really_ lazy. It also has a corkboard, but unlike Timber's, the number of notes haphazardly pinned to it is absolutely _insane._

The final set of doors belong to the classics. Venture's entry is one of the few that's multi-colored, with powder blue, silver, and accents of bright scarlet. Much like in _Undertale,_ his door has the caution tape, and the funnily worded do not enter signs. Common's door is much like Agave's though the paint's not as bad, but is definitely lacking in some places. Bet's eye-lights spot the post-it note chain above the baseboard trim of the door, and the sock beneath the yellow papers. 

Looks like Venture's managed to get the sock _almost_ into his brother's room.

Bet glances at the door's arrangement, and then back at the staircase. It's not quite pitch dark in the bottom floor, especially since the sun's started to peer through the closed blinds. But he can see the front door from the top of the stairs. He frowns a little, eye-sockets narrowing.

"It's almost as if it's the more violent ones closest to the front door." Bet mutters to himself. "...Maybe it's to protect the 'weaker' skeletons?"

He also can't help but wonder if this is some sort of statement. He's not sure what the more aggressive skeletons are like, but if they tend to get pretty violent daily. Then Bet wouldn't be surprised that they'd be closer to the door in case an intruder tried to break in. He doubts that many people would try to break in through the second-story windows. So, looking at the staircase, it's pretty much the only entrance and exit point of the second floor.

He cocks his head to the side a little, before groaning tiredly and runs his hands over his face. "Alright, first things first, gotta get familiarized with the house."

Because it would be bizarre if he didn't know where everything was or went. He ambles his way down the stairs, hand instinctively grasping the handrail in a death-grip. He's still not used to this body's weight and height. A chill runs down his spine, feels the sweat beading on his skull at the sudden realization that he has no clue what his HP is. So yeah, he's totally taking it easy. No pressure. It's not like he could have 1 hp like Common in the underground, and totally dust himself if he decided to take a swan dive and eat the floor.

Sleeping does heal you over, right??? Fuuuuuuuuuck! This is what he gets for not playing or looking at anything _Undertale_ related after a whole year of being shoved ass first into the _My Hero Academia_ Fandom. 

He cusses a little with each step that he takes, before sighing loudly in relief when he reaches the bottom of the staircase. He's still going to be extremely careful. Fear is one hell of a motivator, and Bet really doesn't wanna be responsible for the death of technically two people over something as stupid as falling down the stairs.

The house's layout is distantly similar to the one back in Snowdin, though he's pretty sure that everything's mirrored. At least from what Bet can recall. Though, the house is way bigger. The living room is pretty much right next to the staircase, which is fine. The carpet is still that tacky purple and blue zig-zag pattern. He stares down at it with a dubious expression and scuffs his bare-boned feet against the fibers. 

The living room is more significant, and it leads into a dining room, which Bet knows for a fact that the original Snowdin house didn't have. Anyway, the living room is fully furnished, with multiple couches all surrounding the TV mounted against the wall. The dining room has one of those really long tables, ones that'd you'd typically see at someone's house for like, thanksgiving dinner. The chairs are sized differently. Bet pauses because wow, that tells him a lot about his housemates. Size-wise at least. Each seat has its own colored cushion, and he takes a moment to categorize everything. The swap brothers are the shortest, the tallest (and widest) belongs to a set of colors that he hadn't seen on the doors.

Which is fantastic, because that means that there are _unknowns_ that Bet has to now account for. Still, Bet and his 'brother' are second in the height department. Fallenswaps are slightly taller than Swaps. While the Classics are in the middle. The spots where the lazier siblings sit have their places still stocked with dishes. Which makes some sense, though if it were up to Bet, he'd just have the decorative plates set out for every spot. 

  
Bet does his best to ignore the tacky paintings on the walls. Though, it's tough because his inner artist is crying blood from the pallets used on some of them. Oh well, skeletons do what magic skeletons do. Bet's too exhausted for this. Who combos purple and yellow? A _monster._ And not the _Undertale_ kind.

Sighing, Bet then takes note of the kitchen. It's very spacious, with a large island in the center. There are two refrigerators, and from what Bet can remember, one of those is for hot foods? At least of the monster variety. Luckily, the sink is at an average height and is right next to a dishwasher. 

He almost feels bad for the shorter members of the household. The smallest of smiles crosses Bet's face at the sight of a step stool. That must be _humiliating._ Surrounded by tall people, indeed. Anyway, the cabinet under the sink carries the usual cleaning supplies, so he's not surprised there.

The stovetop is above the oven, both of which are powered by either gas or fire magic. When someone cooks there, they get to look out the window-box and out at the backyard.

Bet spends a good ten minutes opening and closing every single and cabinet to make sure that he knows where everything is. Dishes and other stuff, like cups and bowls, are in the upper cabinets mounted to the walls. Utensils, trivets, oven-mitts, spare towels, larger pots, and pans, all of those are in the lower drawers. One whole drawer is purely dedicated to bulk jars and containers of condiments. 

Bet feels sweat drip down his neck because there's no way in hell that he's drinking mustard by the bottle. Didn't Sans in the game only drink that stuff as a joke? A way to catch someone off guard? Yanno, shock value?!? 

To be fair, some jokesters tended to make their central gig part of their thing. Maybe the Sans-types decided that he liked drinking that sort of thing, and got addicted to it? 

Like a chihuahua and anti-anxiety meds. 

And that means that the other 'lazy' brothers did the same drinking. _(The honey he could at least say was for cooking? Maybe even used as a healthier alternative to granulated sugar...)_ Oh, who was he kidding? Agave totally drank the goddamn honey.

Stars above, what a world he lives in.

Anyway, the kitchen also has a door that leads to the backyard. Which is pretty damn extravagant. The kitchen door leads out to a porch that's connected to the house via a white pergola. There's a fenced-in pool, and Bet raises an eyebrow at the sight of not only a diving board but a reasonably nice waterslide too, then shrugs. Bet recalls the skeletons having a close bond with the kids. Then again, both the board and slide were made for monsters in mind. The backyard itself is a really, really wide open space. And Bet takes a moment to appreciate the forest in the distance surrounding the back perimeter. It was almost like the skeletons had decided to purchase a ranch house of some sort. There was a shed in the right corner, five large box planters, and a greenhouse tucked into the left corner. The rest of the yard was grassy lawns, interspersed with various flowering and fruit trees.

It was pretty, tranquil even. Bet could imagine himself chilling with his feet in the water and drinking something alcoholic on a sunny day, just to unwind. He'd probably need to do that sort of thing, he has no idea what this world can be like. He'll take _any_ relaxation that he can get at this point.

Then he thinks back to the horribly messy room, and the urge to drink the day away suddenly seems like- Bet pauses. It was almost as if the thought had opened up some yawning chasm in his stomach, and he fought back the urge to rifle through the cabinets. It was practically like Bet was suddenly parched, and he swallowed audibly. He wasn't a chronic drinker by any means, so why was he craving-

-Oh. 

_Damn Rouge, your life was quite the mess, huh?_ Bet thinks to himself, and a strange feeling rises up in his chest. It's not quite pity, but more of a peculiar sort of understanding. 

He really can't help but wonder what happened to the guy to become like this. It's almost as if Rouge had just- stagnated. Bet's chest feels a little tight, especially when he recalls the resets, the fact that Rouge has witnessed himself and his brother dying, over and over and over again. Of course, one would turn to alcohol in an attempt to make the hurt go away, just for a bit. Only to crawl into the gaping maw of something equally harmful. And here he stands, alone in the kitchen staring at the clear blue water of the pool. He clenches his fists and exhales slowly and counts to three. Instead of going for the alcohol, Bet scrounges around for a glass and fills it up with tap water instead and chugs. It doesn't satisfy the urge, but it does help, strangely enough. He gently places the cup down and runs his hands down his face. 

Great, another obstacle that he's come across. Looks like whatever Rouge has done to his own body has stuck with him. Bet doesn't even like beer, or whiskey, or vodka- only fruity drinks because he had _taste_ , damn it!

Bet officially has almost two whole days to adapt. By the stars above and the inky black in between, he's gonna need all the time he can get. He calmly makes his way out of the kitchen, heading through the dining room. He notices that beneath the stairs, that there's a closet. Something in the back of his mind seems to itch, and for a moment, he can see something. 

_Venture with a disappointed from across his skull, talking loudly as he pulls out the vacuum cleaner from the closet below. Timber stands awkwardly, shoulders hunched as he wrings his hands with nervousness. Venture seems to sigh a little, smiling softly and gives the other papyrus a smile._

Bet stares blankly for a moment, fingers twitching as the image of the two fades. Then the realization sets in, and he has to take a moment to go over the weird shit that he's just witnessed. Goddamn it, there's only so many surprises one guy can take. Does the universe have any other groundbreaking realizations that he should be aware of?

...He shouldn't have said that.

He really shouldn't have said that because Bet, like a dumbass, has just invited Murphy into his goddamn home, like snakes manifesting in his garden with open arms. And so, when Bet turns and finds Rouge's reflection staring back at him from a mirror that he hadn't noticed earlier. Bet squares his shoulders and narrows his eye-lights, glaring at the monster who looks murderous. You know what? Fuck Murphy's Law! Bet's just gonna get the next potential mindfuck over and done with.

He's a judge, right? Shouldn't he be able to do even weirder bullshit with magic? Monsters can all see stats through the check feature, but he's pretty sure that Sans-types can see even _more_. So, in theory, he should be able to other stuff?

Bet takes a calming breath, sitting down in front of that floor-length mirror and shuts his eyes. He focuses on his breathing, how it whistles slightly through his nasal aperture and fills his false lungs. Each exhale calms him down, and he realizes that meditation as a monster is vastly different. There are things that he didn't notice earlier, too caught up in his earlier panic.

Usually, if it was quiet enough, Bet could hear the sound of not only his breathing but also his heartbeat. Could listen to how the rhythm went faster when he inhaled and slowed when he exhaled. Instead, the 'heartbeat' he could hear was remaining static. The same, constant, strange rhythm, no slowing, now quickening. It was almost like a song. 

Still, Bet dives deeper. Not only is the 'heartbeat' strange, but there's also an odd sort of buzzing going through his system. That's probably the magic circulating in his system. It's continually humming underneath the layers of bone. Oddly enough, it doesn't seem to be on the surface of his body; instead, it feels stronger radiating deep from his chest and spreading from in his bones and outwards. It makes some sense, though, bone marrow in humans is responsible for the creation of blood. And while Rouge seems to have his ecto permanently summoned, he cannot feel it in his false skin.

Fully immersed, something sparks his interest. Something weak and failing. He needs to see what it is, but he can't do it there. No, it needs it's way out. A good push, maybe even a pull?

And so he does. Hands grasping, reaching for that tiny, burning coal that seemed to manifest in his chest and _yanks._

There's the sound of a chiming bell, and the sharp sensation of falling that causes Bet's eyes to snap open. Something hovers near his chest, and at the sight of _it_ , it takes every bit of nerve Bet has to resist the urge to hideaway. It's so incredibly difficult to not cringe at the sight of the soul floating and shuddering in place. 

It was a brilliant red, with white swirling and flowing across its surface. The most unnerving part, that the reflection of the soul that he could see was _wrong_ . It was an upside-down heart in the mirror, and while it was still red with the white running through, the shape he could see wasn't right. The soul, or, to be more specific, _Bet's_ soul was in the form of a stylized four-leaf clover with rounded leaves. Almost as if two souls had merged together at the tips, only leaving the ears visible. 

Nausea crept up Bet's throat, his hands shook with an unknown emotion, even as he instinctively went to cup it gently in his palms. Pulling it close, almost as if he was trying to hide it from the world. 

Was he the only one who could see it like this? This horrific, malformed shape of a human and a monster soul mashed together like some sort of Frankenstein monster? Bet shut his sockets tightly, the smallest little whimper escaping him as he held his entire being close. But everything else that held it's reflection was only showing the typical monster soul.

He was horrified, noticing how it seemed that the red was taking over, almost as if the souls were trying to consume each other. The worst part was that Bet felt totally fine. He would have assumed that the process would've more agonizing. He's a freak, after all, a human in the body of a monster.

Bet takes in a ragged, thoroughly shaken breath and looks down at his soul. He watches the light shining from between his fingers and overlays upon his bones appear almost like water. Red and white moving, dancing, in a soothing, yet ebbing flow. He also notices little bursts of yellow and blue that he hadn't seen on the surface of the soul. It was strangely beautiful, to know that the light that shone from it glittered with other colors.

Energy pulses from it, tingling down Bet's arms as he watches it with tired eye-lights. Each little release of magical energy causes glittering, almost vein-like structures course through his bones. Bet scrutinizes them and watches as the light travels through his body. How all of those little ley-lines lead back to where their soul is usually kept in their form.

"Pathways." Bet says after a moment of quiet, the tone of his voice almost mystified. "It's showing me where all the magic in my body flows to and from."

How strangely beautiful.

Bet stares at the mirror again, and instead of doing that strange disembodied mental yank, he focuses on trying to make a pulling motion. His soul wobbles, and with a little coaxing with his hands, Bet sighs in relief when it settles back into his body, right where it should be behind his ribs. 

His eye-lights seem brighter now, as they stare back at him in the reflection of the mirror. Bet looks straight back, clenching his fists on his crossed knees. He recalls how the magic felt as it traveled through his system and directed it to his eyes. The pathways had led to his sockets the second most after his chest. 

Almost as if a flip was switched, Bet's vision became more intense, and even a tad more vivid. He jolted in surprise when he realized that he could now view his own stats.

* * *

Bet **(Rouge)**

LV: 1 **(10)**

HP: 50/50

AT: 15 **(1)** EXP: 0 **(1223)**

DF: 10 **(1)** Next: 10 **(447)**

* * *

He sat there for a moment, staring at them before.

"So which set am I using? Hello? If any deity is out there, I would like to speak to a lawyer." Bet said, voice pitching itself a few octaves higher in disbelief. 

Did the bold mean that people could only see those stats? Was that why his HP was the only thing not having the bolded and parenthetic indicator on the side for Rouge's info?

Hello????

He kind of wishes that he didn't challenge the universe and get the mindscrew over with. He wants off this ride, thank you very much!

"Welp." Bet says, dispelling the magic to his eyes, voice pitched with false cheer. "Time to go and clean my sins away before I have another panic attack!"

Bet scrambles up and onto his feet, wheezing a little with exertion as he does so. He all but makes a beeline for the closet to see what he can use to clean up Rouge's (now his) pig-pen of a room and pray that he can get rid of most of the dirt within less than 48 hours.

_On the bright side,_ Bet thinks to himself sardonically as he manages to find three different vacuum cleaners. One of which, thank the stars above, is a deep clean type. _At least I won't dust if I get like, a paper cut or fall down the stairs._

Small victories, he'll take what he can get it this point. 

GG, universe, G fuckin' G.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading the second chapter of "あなたの名前は-"!
> 
> Feel free to give me feedback down below. Have a lovely day, make sure to take your medicine and drink some water, and above all, stay determined!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading the pilot chapter of "あなたの名前は-"! 
> 
> Feel free to give me feedback down below. Have a lovely day, make sure to take your medicine and drink some water, and above all, stay determined!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Red or Rose](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27806089) by [MNTRhyna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MNTRhyna/pseuds/MNTRhyna)




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